


Capture

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Series: Judesville [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Costume Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Master/Slave, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes some convincing for Arcade to be Jude’s slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Judeseville series, set before 'The Icing on the Cake'.

“No.” Arcade looked from the item in Jude’s hand to his face and back again. At first he’d thought the courier was joking, but there was a gleam in his eye that suggested otherwise. “No, no, no.”

“Aw come on, just think about—” Jude started, using his most pleading voice.

“ _No_ ,” Arcade cut in. He shook his head in disgust at the Legion decanus helmet with its ruffled feathers. “You know what that represents.”

“Hell, I’m not suggesting we track ‘em down and join up,” Jude argued. “It’s just role play, Arcade. Come on. You’ve never wondered what I might look like in a leather skirt?” he wheedled.

Arcade cast an eye at the bundle of armour Jude had pulled from his pack just moments before. “Where did you even _find_ that? Did you peel it off some rotting corpse?”

“No, more of a skeleton. Nightstalkers had chewed him clean.”

Arcade grimaced. “You’re a twisted individual.”

“Jeez, I’m kidding. I found it in a footlocker at Cottonwood.” Jude held the helmet in both hands and looked down at it, stroking the dusty feathers back into place. “Scavengers missed a few things.”

“Deliberately, I expect.” Jude’s dejected expression told Arcade he’d been thinking about this for some time. Although that bothered Arcade, he didn’t want to yell about it. “Please, just get rid of it.”

-

Jude had been coming and going between the Strip and Cottonwood Cove for a couple of weeks now, helping out with the new independent trading post being set up there. The NCR had wanted the site for themselves and Jude had really had to fight them for it, gathering support from the caravan companies and locals. He was damn proud of the post—which would be more of a township, one that Arcade had already half-jokingly dubbed _Judesville_ —and he wanted to make his presence known while the place was being established in case the old two-headed bear tried to muscle back in.

Arcade would have gone along with him on his next trip, but for two things: one, Freeside was in the middle of the second outbreak of a gastric infection in as many months; and two, Emily Ortal had eloped with a Kings member—corroborating Arcade’s long-held suspicion that she had a thing about gangsters—so the Followers were shorter staffed than ever. So Jude had taken Cass and Boone off to the shores of the Colorado while Arcade got to wade through human effluence. He’d never gotten through as much soap in his life.

His first night alone he undressed and fell into bed, tired but mentally restless. The best way to deal with that was usually to masturbate, and he was feeling lonesome anyway, so he rolled onto Jude’s side of the bed where it smelled more like him and took himself in hand. After a while he wasn’t really getting anywhere—he still struggled now and then with his brain getting in the way of his libido—and he was having one last flick through his library of mental images before giving up and trying to sleep. He stopped short at a scenario he hadn’t expected; a snapshot planted in his mental compartment without his permission.

He pictured himself kneeling, desert grit biting into his knees, wrists lashed together. Jude behind him in the veteran armour, tightening a hand around his throat and snarling into his ear. Tearing the rags from Arcade’s body.

The physical reaction was abrupt enough to make him gasp into the dark. Feeling somewhat appalled at himself, he tightened his fist around his erection and started to stroke.

Jude circling him, eyeing him like livestock. Testing his flesh with a rough hand. A cruel fist in his hair. Standing in front of him, parting the leather panels of the skirt and shoving Arcade’s mouth down onto his cock...

Before he could even reach for a cloth, he came suddenly in a messy spill onto his hand and the bed sheets.

He cleaned himself off, then flopped onto his back and stared up into the dark, feeling as though he’d betrayed something dear.


	2. Chapter 2

Arcade was so disappointed in himself that he refused to masturbate again for the rest of the time Jude was away, for fear of the unwanted fantasy creeping back into his thoughts. After long days spent mopping up after stinking patients and washing very thoroughly, he crawled into bed and sent himself to sleep with books instead of his hand.

One evening he got back from the Mormon Fort to find Jude had returned, and he and Cass were downstairs in the casino discussing their plans for the place. It wasn’t enough that Jude had projects dotted all over the Mojave; he was also toying with the idea of reopening the Lucky 38, with Cass in charge. Jude liked casinos well enough but didn’t want to be stuck there running one. Cass was a sharp businesswoman, liked a challenge, and now she’d retired from the caravan trade it seemed a perfect solution.

Arcade joined them at the deserted bar to share drinks and anecdotes, but it wasn’t long before Cass got tired of the men making eyes at each other and told them to get a room. They didn’t argue. Jude started with the dirty talk on the elevator ride up, pressing Arcade up against the mirrored wall. They were half undressed by the time they made it to the bed.

“The things I wanna do to you,” Jude said against his skin. Then he flashed that wolf-like grin that had drawn Arcade in so helplessly in the first place. “You sure you don’t want me to slip into something a little more... Roman?”

Arcade tensed a little under his wandering hands. “I thought you were going to drop that.”

“Just imagine it,” Jude purred, his lips stained with wine. He lowered his head and kissed Arcade’s neck in the spot he knew felt the sweetest. “You’ve been captured. You’re on your knees, naked, hands tied behind your back...” It was unnervingly close to the image Arcade had been trying to avoid. He swallowed the appreciative noise that tried to sneak out of him.

“I come up behind you,” Jude continued, “Ready to take what’s mine.” His hand moved to Arcade’s throat and squeezed, just a little. “I grab hold of your collar and pull your head—”

“Wait, _collar_?”

Jude raised his head, looking a little shifty. “Yeah,” he said. “I may have procured one of those intelligent slave collars they used.”

Arcade just stared at him for a moment. “You’re deranged.” He pulled away, shifting awkwardly to hide his erection. It wouldn’t exactly help his argument.

Jude stared at him, shunned. “Oh come on, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I find the Legion and slavery repulsive in every way, and I thought you felt the same, but now you want to invite it into our bedroom.” He threw the words at Jude, but they were really directed at himself.

“They’re gone, Arcade. We beat them.”

“Not all of them. And that’s not the point.”

Jude put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine, if you don’t want to. I don’t get it, is all. You liked me just fine in the NCR uniform, and the raider armour, and you ain’t exactly their number one fan. This’d be no different.”

“It _is_ different. I couldn’t bear to even look at you dressed in that.”

“It’d still be me.”

“Why can’t it _just_ be you? Why can’t we fuck like a normal couple without all the goddamn party games?” Shit. Arcade hadn’t meant to lash out, but now the air between them rang with resentment.

“Didn’t realise I’d been twisting your arm,” Jude replied. “Sorry I inflicted my sick perversions on you. I’ll go for something _boring_ next time.”

If it hadn’t been for that last remark, Arcade would have apologised. “Don’t throw that in my face.”

“Throw what in your face?”

Arcade almost answered, but by now they’d poked each other’s weak spots and gotten defensive and he knew better than to continue the conversation. He swung off the bed and went to the bathroom. He washed in the basin to cool off his body and his temper, then dried himself on a thin towel. He drank a glass of water and brushed his teeth with baking powder. When he finally went back into the bedroom, Jude was in bed on his side, hands stuffed under his pillow. He was too still to be asleep.

Arcade sat down and set his glasses on the nightstand. “Jude,” he said.

A moment of silence passed. “Yeah.”

“I don’t think you’re perverted,” Arcade said.

Jude lifted his head, just a little, then dropped it back down. “Maybe I am,” he said. “I don’t know.” He sounded tired and flat.

“Of course you’re not.” Arcade sat watching the back of Jude’s head, hating the silence. “Would you turn over? Please?”

Jude rolled onto his other side and propped himself on one elbow. Arcade had expected to see that sullen anger on his face, but instead there was only remorse. Seeing it made Arcade feel horrible.

“I’m sorry,” Jude said.

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“So what should I do?”

“I guess I just want to understand. Why do you want to do it?”

Jude looked down at the sheet. “I just,” he began, then shrugged. “I like playing around. Exploring possibilities. And I thought that you were into it too. I wouldn’t have pushed you if I hadn’t.”

“It’s just a step too far for me. That’s all.”

Jude sighed. “Then I wish you’d said something. I hate knowing you were so uncomfortable about it this whole time.”

“I did say something.”

“No, I mean sooner.” Jude poked at a hole in the sheet where the yellowed mattress showed through. “Before we started it.”

“What do you mean, before we started it?”

Jude shifted uncomfortably. “Before we started, y’know, fooling around. Dressing up.”

“That’s—oh, hell. That’s not what I was talking about.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I just meant the Legion armour.”

“Oh.”

“Christ, I wouldn’t have done any of the other stuff if I hadn’t wanted to.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Arcade looked at Jude in exasperation. “You may be charming, but not so charming that I can’t put my foot down if I want to.”

Jude relaxed visibly. “I just thought, when you said about, y’know. Doing it like a normal couple.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Because I know I can probably get a little weird, with some of the things I suggest. I get these dumb ideas in my head, especially when I’m away from you... But I’ll stop it, if you want.”

Arcade touched Jude’s face, stroked his stubbled jaw. “We’re lovers. Why would I want you to stop telling me what you like?”

Jude watched him for a while. His pupils were big in the dim light. “I don’t want what I like to make you uncomfortable. It feels like shit.”

Jude was always quick to apologise, even when he didn’t need to, but Arcade still struggled with it. He knew it was something he needed to work on. “Look, can we just forget about it?” he said. “I didn’t want to fight. I’ve missed you.”

Jude sighed and pulled him down for a kiss. “Missed you too.” He leaned his forehead against Arcade’s for a moment. “Tell you what,” he said, and got up. He went over to one of the wardrobes and pulled out a familiar bundle of leather and metal that had been tucked away at the bottom behind a pair of busted boots. “Let’s just throw it in the chute. If it makes you feel that way, I don’t want it around either.”

He offered the armour to Arcade, who eyed it with caution. After a moment he nodded and took it.

In the hallway, Arcade stood by the garbage chute. He told himself it was just rags. Meaningless junk. Let the incinerator have it. He stood there for almost five minutes, until Jude called out to ask him if he was okay. Arcade tossed the feathered helmet in and dropped the chute door closed with a clang. Then he stuffed the rest of the armour into the closet in the games room, and went back to the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Arcade found Jude in the cocktail lounge, sitting at a low table with one of those tacky beer bottle lamps, a bottle of actual beer and a stack of crumpled papers. He was smoking and frowning at the screen on his Pip-Boy. He got little twin lines between his eyebrows when he frowned. Arcade couldn’t help but find them strangely adorable, though he would always prefer to see the laughter lines around his eyes.

“Partying without me? I’m offended.”

The laughter lines made an appearance as Jude looked up and saw him. “Some party,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. Reading. Beer. Hot guy. Definitely sounds like my kind of party.” Arcade leaned down to give him a kiss, then took a seat on the couch opposite. “What are you up to?”

Jude sighed. “The usual. Planning. Trying to figure out how to give everyone what they want without starting another war. Driving myself crazy.”

Arcade nodded. The fair division of land at Cottonwood Cove was a major concern for Jude. He wanted to give the struggling smaller traders a place to take root, while still creating opportunities for the better established companies who would bring more caps and customers with them. Jude knew enough about trade from his past life in the caravan industry, but town planning was an entirely new learning curve. He’d drawn up plan after plan of the town, working out how they could best use the existing buildings, where to build new, where to accommodate travellers, where to graze brahmin, how to protect against raiders, provide adequate sanitation... it went on and on. He’d come to know that stretch of riverbank like the back of his hand. Judesville really wouldn’t be such a bad name for it.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Not right now,” Jude said. He sat back and looked at Arcade thoughtfully. “I’d really like for you to come with me next time, though. And not just ‘cause I hate being away from you all the time, although that’s a part of it. But I could really use your input.”

“Sure,” Arcade said. “As long as I can get away from work.” He picked up the pack of cigarettes on the table and teased one out. When he looked up, Jude was still watching him with an odd expression on his face. “What is it?”

“You don’t want to, do you?”

“Didn’t I just say I did?”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “Arcade. I know you. I know when you’re being straight with me and when you’re brushing me off with that whole breezy ‘Sure-let’s-do-that’ thing.”

“I was—” Arcade frowned. “I do not do that.” He reached for Jude’s lighter and lit his smoke.

“You do too. And it’s all right, if you don’t want to go, I’d just rather you said so.”

“Of course I want to. But it’s not that simple. Freeside is—”

“Freeside is fine. It ain’t dealing with anything it can’t handle right now,” Jude said. “And the Followers have new recruits that can shovel shit just as well as you can. Meaning no insult to your shit-shovelling skills. But you let them survive without you plenty of times before.”

Arcade blew out smoke. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“I think you’re using work as an excuse to avoid going to Cottonwood.” He spoke carefully. “I don’t think you wanna go back there.”

“And why wouldn’t I want to go there?”

“Because of the Legion.”

Arcade looked away. Avoiding Jude’s eye, he realised a moment too late. No doubt Jude would have taken note. His stomach had started to churn and he wasn’t sure why.

“I’ve been thinking about it this last few days,” Jude admitted. “When I saw how bad I made you feel with... Y’know. The armour thing. I realised that might be why you hadn’t come with me before. The last time you were there it was still full of legionaries.”

Arcade rubbed his eyes under his glasses and smoked his cigarette. Jude was quiet, giving him time to reply.

“And slaves,” Arcade said at last.

He’d only visited Cottonwood Cove once, months ago, before Jude had become recognised as a hated enemy of the Legion. They’d gone in to bug a radio for the NCR and had strolled right in past the tents and flags. Arcade had encountered plenty of legionaries on his travels with Jude, and killed his fair share, but that was the first time he had set foot on their turf.

The pen had been full of slaves. Some sick, some probably already dead. There were children in there. Arcade had dreamt about it later.

Jude had returned soon after with Boone, Veronica and a small arsenal. They’d killed every legionary in the camp and released the remaining slaves. Arcade still wondered how many had been shipped to Fortification Hill before they could be rescued.

Jude leaned toward him and those twin frown lines reappeared, more pronounced in the lamplight. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I knew how much you hated them, but I never realised...”

“Realised what?”

“How afraid you were.”

Arcade opened his mouth to deny it, but changed his mind. That was his problem; he was forever deflecting. He’d avoided thinking about why he hadn’t gone back to Cottonwood. The same way he’d avoided thinking about the Legion armour still stashed in the closet, where it had been nudging guiltily at his thoughts for the last week.

Fear. Jude was probably right. He had this knack for getting under people’s skin and poking around to figure out what motivated them. Arcade shouldn’t assume he was any less vulnerable to it. It was quite the skill, one Jude couldn’t have got this far without. They’d even come up with a name for it.

He looked up at Jude through narrowed eyes and gave him a wry smile. “You’re fucking Sixing me, aren’t you?”

Jude laughed and held up his hands. “I am not Sixing you. I just want my man to be happy.”

“Then don’t worry,” Arcade said. “I am happy. I promise.”

“I hope so.” Jude leaned back and stretched. “Anyway, I’ve had enough of looking at this shit for one night. You coming to bed?”

Arcade nodded. “In a minute.”

He watched Jude go, then ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. He looked out at the darkened sky and wondered.


	4. Chapter 4

Jude was sitting on the bed when Arcade came in, still fiddling with his Pip-Boy.

“Sorry,” he said as Arcade approached. “Putting it away now.” He started to unfasten the clasps on his wrist, but looked around when he heard something drop onto the bed beside him. When he saw what it was, he froze.

Jude looked from the armour to Arcade, confused and apprehensive, expecting some kind of confrontation. “What is this?”

“You know what it is.”

Jude reached out and poked the bundle as though testing it was real. “I thought you burned it.”

“I intended to,” Arcade said. “Turns out it’s mystical enchanted armour that turns brains into mush.”

Jude’s voice was gentle when he replied. “What’s going on?”

Arcade sat down on the bed. The armour lay between him and Jude. He exhaled heavily and started to talk.

“I’m sick of being scared of them,” he said. “I’ve been scared of them for such a long time. Slavery is my worst fear. Partly because of my ideals, and partly because of where I came from. A delightful side effect of an upbringing like mine is a constant dread of being captured or killed. Or loved ones being captured or killed. The Legion symbolised the worst of all those fears.” He cleared his throat. “As long as people remember the Enclave, I guess I’ll still be afraid. But that’s a rational fear. I _need_ to be cautious. Being afraid of Legion brutality isn’t rational, not any more. Not now they’re gone. And it’s just getting in the way. I want to do something about it.” He shrugged. “Rewire my responses to it, or something.”

Jude watched him through narrowed eyes, still catching up with what exactly was being proposed here. “Rewire them... by getting me to wear this?” He saw Arcade’s affirmative nod. “Wow. Okay. I’m just, uh, surprised.” He ran a finger over the studded leather of the breastplate. “But what if it didn’t work like that? Hell, what if you ended up feeling scared of me?”

“I doubt that would be a problem.”

“How can you be sure? Like you said, it’s not rational.” When Arcade didn’t reply, Jude looked as though he was trying to fight back a smile. “You imagined it?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to, but _someone_ kind of planted it in my head.”

“And?”

“And,” Arcade said, “Let’s just say it was... effective.”

“Really,” Jude replied, getting that dark look that usually meant he was having impure thoughts. “How effective are we talking?”

Arcade rolled his eyes at him. “Very effective. And that’s all the information you’re getting.” Jude smiled wickedly. “Anyway, that’s why I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it out.” 

Jude glanced at the armour, and doubt clouded his expression. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t want to bring all that stuff up for you. It seems like it’s pretty raw.”

“If it’s too much, I’ll tell you. I trust you. But I don’t want you to hold back because you’re worried about my poor fragile psyche. If we’re going to do this, we do it properly. Okay?”

That wicked glint returned. “Yes, sir.”

Arcade took a deep breath. “I have three conditions.”

“Anything.”

“One, no face wrap or helmet. I want to see your face.”

Jude nodded. “I thought the feathers were kinda funky, but fair enough.”

“Two, no slave collar.”

Jude couldn’t help pouting a little at that. “But isn’t that the point of the scenario? Master and slave?”

“That part I can handle,” Arcade replied, although he was somewhat embarrassed to admit to it. “But those collars are ancient, and technology wasn’t exactly the Legion’s strong suit. So unless you want to decorate the bedroom wall with my brain matter, I suggest we drop the collar from the equation.”

“Fair point,” Jude conceded. “But could I use... other stuff?”

Arcade sighed. “If you must.”

Jude smiled. “It’s a deal.” He shifted down the bed toward Arcade and leaned in to kiss him.

“Three,” Arcade said clearly, before Jude could close the gap. “I get to choose the next of these... exercises.”

Another nod. “Of course.”

Arcade smiled. “Careful. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to,” he said.

“I’m game for anything,” Jude said. “As long as it doesn’t involve animals, children, or human waste. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Arcade replied enigmatically, and finally let Jude kiss him.


	5. Chapter 5

Arcade entered the bedroom wrapped in a towel, his steam-fogged glasses still in his hand. His skin was flushed and scrubbed and warm from his bath. The radio on the desk was on, playing that sultry little Peggy Lee number. It started to crackle and fuzz as he crossed the room to the wardrobe. He heard the bedroom door open as he was rummaging for a clean shirt and pants.

“Hey,” he said, not turning round. “Could you give the radio a whack? It’s doing that thing again.”

There was no reply, but a moment later the radio switched off. Arcade gave his glasses a wipe on the towel, and had only just slid them back on when a gloved hand snaked around his throat and squeezed. He gasped as cold metal pressed against his bare back.

“On your knees, profligate,” a voice hissed in Arcade’s ear. It sounded like a stranger.

Arcade’s heart started hammering. He pulled himself free and turned around. Even knowing what he would see, it was still a shock to witness his lover dressed like that.

The armour fitted Jude well. Arcade felt both excited and appalled. His eyes ran over the dented pauldrons, the thick leather plates covering Jude’s chest, the red shirt underneath that clung to his biceps. The panelled skirt fell to just above his knees. Red strips hung from the belt marking him—or rather, the armour’s former owner—as a veteran soldier. Jude had paid great attention to detail. His boots were concealed behind shin guards, and his hands were covered not by gloves but strips of worn leather, wrapped almost to the elbow. In his hand was a crude throwing spear.

The effect was powerful. It was almost two days since they had agreed to do this, and Arcade had felt a nervous tension building every time he thought about it. The only specific they had planned was a safe word, at Jude’s insistence, in case Arcade reacted badly. Otherwise they had agreed not to plan it, since Arcade’s vulnerability was key to the scenario. Even so, he had expected to be better prepared than he now felt.

He dragged his eyes up to Jude’s face, looking to anchor himself in something familiar, but what he saw only disquieted him more. There was no trace of warmth in Jude’s features. His hair was scraped back from his face, making the scars at his hairline more pronounced, and his eyes were like cold flint.

He raised the spear. The flat of the cold blade pressed against Arcade’s chest. “I said, _on your knees_.”

Arcade continued to stare at his lover, his funny, smart-mouthed, drop-dead sexy lover, who was currently someone else entirely. It was extraordinary. It was chilling. It was... _Oh_. Arcade’s blood was thumping in his ears and his chest, but also below his waist. Even though he’d asked for this, he felt a rush of shame.

Still. This was their fantasy, to write however they wished. He decided he would not submit willingly. “Go to hell,” he said.

Jude’s eyes narrowed. “Fight me, would you?”

Arcade replied by shoving the spear away. Jude regarded him icily for a long moment, then he tossed the spear aside onto the floor.

“Fight, then,” he said.

For a crazed moment, Arcade considered punching him in the face. He promptly shook the thought off. This was still his partner standing in front of him, however different he may currently look. Instead he put both his hands on Jude’s armoured chest and pushed him back. Jude barely even staggered. He smiled a hard little smile, daring Arcade to do better. Arcade’s strength was a good match for Jude’s, but he was at one hell of a disadvantage, armed with nothing but a towel and his wits. But the narrative they had chosen didn’t end with him winning, did it? Whatever he did he was destined to lose and be overpowered. The thought gave him chills, both good and bad. Nevertheless, his instincts made him want to fight.

He slapped Jude across the face. The sound of it rang in the air. For a second Arcade’s stomach clenched as he feared he had gone too far. He searched for any hurt registering on Jude’s face, but Jude was too deeply entrenched in his role. His amusement was tinged with anger.

He reached out and snatched Arcade by the throat again. Arcade grabbed his wrist and tried to force his arm away, but Jude was strong and quick and somehow turned Arcade so he was behind him again, body pressed against his, hand half-crushing his throat. _Is this is because I wouldn’t wear the collar?_ Arcade thought. He clawed at Jude’s arm, scraping leather and skin with his fingernails.

Spots danced in his vision when Jude released his throat. He panted, trying to find his voice, but before he could speak Jude gripped both of his arms and wrenched them behind his back until his shoulders burned in their sockets. At the same time a booted foot hooked around his bare ankle and pulled it out from under him. He toppled to one knee, cursing. He struggled, but Jude was above him now, the position giving him the distinct advantage. He pushed down hard on Arcade’s shoulder, forcing him down onto both knees, bent toward the ground in a perverse prayer.

Arcade’s skin was still soft from his bath, and his knees scraped painfully on the carpet. The suddenness of all this had his pulse racing, almost in a panic. He had to force his breath to slow. They both got a thrill from rough play, and they’d wrestled each other in bed plenty of times, but Jude had never unleashed his strength in such a harsh, direct way before. Arcade had never hit Jude before, either. Maybe this was a mistake. Arcade’s anger blazed and he toyed with the idea of calling a time out.

Jude leaned in above him. “You belong to me now,” he said. “Say it.”

Arcade thought of the safe word, tasted it on his tongue. _Samaritan_. Something from a conversation they’d had the first time they met. Something that would bring them back to their real selves if either one was pushed outside his comfort zone. But some stubborn voice within him refused to give up so quickly. That and his undeniable curiosity. This was proving just as darkly seductive as his fantasy. He was getting harder by the second.

“Fuck you.” Arcade wasn’t sure whether he was saying it to Jude or the legionary.

That earned him a harder shove from Jude. “I’ll have to tame that filthy mouth of yours.”

Arcade wrenched his arms free of Jude’s grip, wincing at the ache in his shoulders, and tried to scramble away to get back to his feet. Again, Jude was quicker and stronger. He knocked Arcade down and rolled him onto his back. One knee went between his legs. With both Arcade’s wrists pinned against his chest with one hand, Jude leaned over to the open wardrobe and tugged out a belt. He used it to lash Arcade’s forearms together, buckling it tight before he let go. He sat back on his heels, looking down at his bound captive.

Arcade stared back. There was heat in Jude’s eyes now, but the callousness of the legionary remained. He tested his bonds but there was barely any give. The towel, his last pitiful defence, had somehow stayed on in the tumble, but it wouldn’t last through another. His erection was obvious through the worn cloth. He could feel Jude’s eyes hot upon it now.

“I thought as much,” Jude said. “You may call yourself _doctor_ , and speak Caesar’s tongue, but underneath all the pretences of sophistication you’re nothing but a filthy degenerate.”

He reached down and tore the towel from Arcade’s waist.

Arcade glared at him, hot with anger and arousal and unsure what to do with all of it. The words had been chosen to insult and inflame him, all of which stung and made him want to lash out, because... well, what kind of person gets off on saying mean, spiteful things to the man they love? But it wasn’t really Jude saying those things. In a way, Arcade was bizarrely flattered that his partner was willing to warp himself so completely in order for them to share this experience.

On a baser level, every cruel word sent another jolt of excitement through him.

Jude hooked his fingers through the belt on Arcade’s wrists and stood, dragging Arcade back to his knees. “You’ll kneel when I tell you to kneel,” he said. “Stand only when I tell you to stand.”

Arcade’s hands throbbed. His cock, too. His voice had all but abandoned him until now, but stripped of his other defences he refused to remain silent. “Roll over?” he said. “Play dead? Did you want a slave, or a puppy?”

Jude gave his bonds another sharp tug. “A dog is wise enough to submit when it’s beaten,” he replied. “And you’re not a slave yet. To be my slave would be a privilege. Right now you’re nothing. A capture. You have no worth except that which I give you.” He took hold of Arcade’s jaw and tilted his face up. “So tell me, capture,” he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Arcade’s lips. “What are you good for?”

With his other hand he reached to part the panels of his skirt. Arcade despised the Legion garb, but _fuck_ , Jude’s thighs looked good draped in the leather pleats. Arcade flicked a glance down at Jude’s dick straining towards him. His body pulsed with longing.

“And you call me a degenerate,” he said. “Hypocrite savage.”

“Or perhaps I just need to tame you the only way a profligate like you can understand,” Jude sneered. He gripped Arcade’s chin tighter. “Open,” he commanded.

Arcade stared up defiantly at his captor. He was torn between wanting to resist and just letting himself be overpowered and taken. His lips parted involuntarily. Jude pushed a thumb into his mouth and prised his jaw open.

"Use your teeth, and you’ll lose your head,” he snarled, and shoved his cock past Arcade’s lips.

They both groaned as Jude filled Arcade’s mouth. The familiar taste and scent of Jude’s skin mingled with the smell of oiled leather. On an impulse he was too turned on to fight, Arcade sucked Jude hard, his tongue laving against the shaft. Fingers twisted into the hair on the back of his scalp, pulling his head back and forth firmly, steadily.

Arcade ran his bound hands up one muscled thigh as he worked his tongue. He hadn’t been allowed to touch Jude until now, and he was desperate for it. Arcade hadn’t yet decided which was his favourite part of Jude’s body, but his thighs were definitely a contender, so he almost felt bad for scraping his fingernails viciously down one leg as he sucked on the cock in his mouth. Would have felt worse if it weren’t for the shake in Jude’s breath that gave away how much he was enjoying it, and how good it felt to him to be able to fight back just a little. Call it revenge for the bruises he would no doubt be displaying tomorrow. The hand in his hair tightened painfully and Jude’s hips jerked harder, faster.

A minute or so later Jude slowed. His breath was ragged. One hand stayed in Arcade’s hair, stilling him now. The other wrapped around the base of his cock. He must be close to coming. Arcade bit down with his incisors, just a tiny bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make Jude hiss at the threat of it. He pulled out of Arcade’s mouth.

“Looks like you have your uses after all,” he said. His voice had taken on that husky quality, low and rumbling, as though it could dissolve into a moan at any moment. He stood over Arcade, still looking mean and dangerous, gripping his dick like a weapon, but his sharp edges were being worn away. “Turn around and get on your hands and knees.”

Arcade just watched him. “You didn’t say _Simon says_.”

Jude’s eyes narrowed. “Still not learned your lesson, capture?”

“And what could I possibly learn from an uncultured fascist like you?”

In place of an answer he was wrestled down to the floor again. He’d be lucky if he had any skin left on his knees by morning. He planted his hands in front of him to keep from falling on his face. His fingertips were turning a dark red, going prickly numb from his bonds.

Jude lowered himself to his knees behind Arcade. He scraped a hand down his spine. “Profligate dog,” he muttered.

“Neanderthal.”

Fingers bit into his ass. “ _Whore_.”

Arcade bit his lip as a thumb teased a circle around his asshole. Jude knew he loved that. Probably his way of daring him to drop the roleplay and start begging. Arcade gritted his teeth and fought the urge to writhe back into the touch. His cock hung heavy between his legs, starved of attention and screaming for it. He could hear Jude fumbling again with the skirt, and for a moment he tensed, wondering if Jude intended to extend the realism by fucking him dry. But Jude’s fingers were cool and wet when they came back into contact with him a moment later. He really _did_ think of everything.

Jude normally took his time with this, turning preparation into extended foreplay, working Arcade until he was writhing and almost begging. But this wasn’t his Jude. The fingers probed Arcade quickly, efficiently. Then the thick, blunt head of a cock was pushing at him. He couldn’t hold back his moan as it sank deeper inside. Jude went slowly, letting Arcade stretch and relax around him until he was sheathed completely. Arcade wanted more. Needed it. Still he refused to push back, to beg.

Jude withdrew slowly, then rammed back into him. “No more insults, dog?”

“Is that all you’ve got?” Arcade panted. He hissed as Jude yanked his head back by the hair, but he kept choking the words out as clearly as his ragged breath would allow. “I thought with all that spear-waving that you guys would at least know how to fuck.”

Jude punished him by thrusting even harder, hard enough for Arcade to cry out and brace his arms against the floor. Jude fucked him wild and rough and Arcade surrendered to it. Lost himself. He couldn’t speak any more, couldn’t even hold himself up. He sank down to his elbows, head lolling, eyes watering.

Jude wrapped an arm around Arcade’s chest and hauled him up onto his knees. He pulled on his hip to turn him. A moment later Arcade saw why. Jude worked a hand into his hair and jerked his head to the side. “Watch,” he snarled. He kept on fucking Arcade, holding him tightly in place.

The wardrobe still stood open, and the mirror inside the door reflected the debauched image they made. The naked slave and the cruel legionary. Jude’s face was all fierce arousal, his eyes devouring Arcade’s body in the reflection while his hands and his cock took complete ownership of him. Arcade wasn’t a vain man. He rarely liked to look at himself any more than was necessary, so seeing his body exposed and claimed like this made him flush even redder than he already was and struggle to turn his face away, but Jude wouldn’t let him. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and now Arcade could see Jude’s cock thrusting in and out of him. He let out a whimper at the sight.

Jude let go of Arcade’s hair and reached down to grip his erection. The feel of the leather wraps against Arcade’s skin was alien but so fucking good. He could have cried at how good it felt to be touched at last. Jude’s thumb rubbed over the head of his dick as he stroked him. Arcade moaned at the combined impact of everything he could feel and see and hear. The thick cock inside him, the hand jerking him, the sight of them in the mirror and Jude’s voice rough in his ear saying _See who you belong to_ all collided to push him up, higher and higher and the orgasm that had been coiling in him started to explode.

Arcade closed his eyes just before he could see himself come in wild spurts over Jude’s wrapped fist. He had no doubt Jude was watching every moment. His body shuddered and rocked through his climax. He could hear his own voice crying out, while Jude’s was a low roar in his ear as Arcade squeezed tight around him. Jude started coming while Arcade was still riding out the waves of his own orgasm.

The arm braced around Arcade’s chest kept him from falling as his body sagged. He could feel the armour against his back, the metal still cool to the touch. It was quite welcome now. Jude's chest rose and fell beneath the thick plates. Slowly he lowered them both to the floor.

They lay together in dazed silence for a long, glorious moment. Then Jude reached over Arcade to unfasten the belt around his wrists. His hands were gentle now. Arcade lay bonelessly and let him work, cheek pressed against the carpet. He flexed his fingers to get the blood flowing through his forearms. He heard Jude move away and start to tackle the straps and buckles on his armour. There was a clunk as the armour was tossed aside.

Arcade would hurt everywhere tomorrow. Already did in quite a few places, but he was still high on the cocktail of oxytocin and adrenaline and probably other things he couldn’t remember the names of right now because they had fried his brain. He couldn’t stay that high forever, though. He turned over slowly.

“Jude,” he said.

"I’m here.” Jude lay back down beside him, naked now.

 Arcade reached for him, and Jude pulled him in and kissed him like he was dying of thirst and Arcade’s lips were his first drink of water. Arcade ran his hands gratefully over his lover’s skin. He’d barely touched him until now. Jude’s body was on fire and slick with sweat from being trapped under the layers of leather and metal, but Arcade didn’t care, he dragged him closer anyway, felt for his face, his back, his arms.

“Are you okay?” Jude murmured. He nuzzled Arcade’s neck where he had been squeezing it brutally not so long ago. “I was afraid I may have gone too far.”

Arcade tried to say _I’m fine_ , but it just came out as _Hnn_. “Good,” he managed to say at last. “I’m good.” He smiled. “You?”

Jude growled against his throat in reply. “You’re so fucking hot I get jealous of myself sometimes.”

Arcade pulled Jude’s head up and kissed him again, and they wrapped around each other, rocked together, slowly now but so keenly that Arcade wondered if they were heading for round two. The thought sent sparks to his spent cock, but he thought it was probably too soon. He was going to be sore enough already.

“God, you’re amazing,” Jude murmured between kisses.

“Filthy profligate,” Arcade replied.

Jude smiled, that gorgeous smile that Arcade had gotten addicted to a long time ago, the smile that was totally and utterly _him_. “I love you too.”


End file.
